


fire in the frost

by xioying



Series: anarchist on the dream smp [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Smp, Gen, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28386234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xioying/pseuds/xioying
Summary: Tommy knew it. Dream would’ve caught up to him eventually. He could fight, he could struggle, but in the end he’d always have to hang his head in defeat.Except Techno’s paranoia makes him maybe a bit too good at planning ahead.
Series: anarchist on the dream smp [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080539
Comments: 10
Kudos: 284





	fire in the frost

**Author's Note:**

> Canon context for those who aren't caught up: Tommy is hiding from basically everyone in Techno's house, Dream is presumably still messing with Tommy and looking for him, and Techno technically owes Dream one since Dream helped him get away from an execution.

“Hand him over to me.”

The room was dreadfully cold.

It could’ve been just the weather outside, and that their front door was now open. Or it could’ve been Dream standing in the doorway, green cloak smeared with blackish-red from zombies, face shadowed by the moonlight that illuminated his back.

Either way, it was dreadfully cold, and Tommy wanted nothing more than to go back downstairs where it was much warmer.

He curled up in the box he was hiding in, resisting the urge to blow hot air onto his hands. Any sound would give his location away to Dream, even if he was invisible.

“ _Dream_ ,” Techno sighed, pulling at the edge of his own cloak in a pretense of nonchalance, “I keep telling you not to enter my house without asking first.”

“Hand him over, Techno.”

“We live in a society. You can’t just keep opening doors to people’s houses like this.”

“ _Techno_.”

“Who are you even talking about? Nobody’s here except for me. If you’re talking about Ghostbur, then sometimes he drops by, but he’s not here at the moment—”

Mid-speech, Dream’s gaze dragged over the entire room in a sweep, and landed with startling speed on the makeshift box Tommy was crouching in. Tommy’s breath hitched, and he folded over himself even more; it was pointless. In a flash, Dream reached over and slammed the lid down, grabbing at him until he latched onto Tommy’s wrist. He yanked Tommy out of the box and crammed a freezing white block into his mouth. Tommy instantly spat it back out, letting it clink onto the floor, and then he saw his hands in front of him.

An ice cube of milk. To get rid of invisibility. Tommy coughed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Dream had known.

Dream raised a hand as if to bid farewell. “I’ll be going, then.” He turned, grip still iron on Tommy’s wrist, back out into the cold winter night. Tommy hurled a frightened look backwards.

Techno didn’t speak.

He swung.

With lightning-fast reflexes, Dream unsheathed his own sword to parry the blow from the pickaxe, but his grip loosened from the recoil. Tommy snatched his wrist away and staggered back over to Techno’s side.

Dream felt more unreadable than ever. “Tommy, you’re coming with me.”

“Dream,” Tommy began, unsure of what he was even going to say.

“Look,” Techno cut in, raising his pickaxe in front of himself in a defensive stance, “when it comes to my house, there are three types of guests I hate the most. People who leave the door open, people who don’t ask before coming, and people who take stuff without asking. As of now, you’ve checked off all three. Do you mind leaving? You’re being incredibly unpleasant right now.”

Dream didn’t answer. Just looked straight at Tommy. “He just called you ‘stuff’, Tommy. He’s not your friend. He doesn’t even think you’re a person.”

“I—it was a figure of speech.”

“You _know_ I’m your friend, Tommy. C’mon. Let’s go.”

“I don’t—” Tommy shrunk back behind Techno even more. He had another potion of invisibility, but should he use it? “I don’t know that.”

Exasperated, Dream sighed and ground his foot on the floor. Techno made a disgruntled noise. “Yes, you do. Nobody ever came to visit you in Logstedshire. Remember? Nobody but me. And your beach party, too. Nobody. They kept making excuses. I’ve _never_ made excuses with you, Tommy.”

“People _did_ visit me,” Tommy protested, idle hands finding the fabric of Techno’s cloak. “Ranboo came to visit me—”

“Yeah, maybe, after a week, or something? You were in exile for a week and so alone, and Ranboo thought yeah, it’d be fine to visit you in exile in a week.”

A cold wind blew from outside. Tommy’s fingers felt frozen. “Yeah—I mean, _no_ , that’s not… Techno, say something!”

Techno tilted his head. “I don’t… know what you want me to say?”

Whatever. “Okay,” Tommy breathed, balling his fists, “maybe you visited me and all but you made me throw my armour in the pit and—you blew it up every time! You just blew all of it up—you blew Logstedshire up! You killed Mushroom Henry! And my log—what kind of friend just blows everything up? In fact, you’re the one who exiled me in the first place! From L’Manburg, from the Nether, from everywhere that’s been touched—you’re the one who started all of this. You’re not my friend!”

Tommy exhaled shakily. He hadn’t known how incredibly heavy it felt to keep all of it pent up, but now that he’d blown it all out, even though his hands were drenched with sweat and legs shaky, he felt more relieved than ever.

Dream did not move or speak. The howling winds outside foretold a blizzard.

Then, like clockwork, he turned his neck to look at Techno. “Techno,” he started, lowering his sword. “Or… Mister Genie.”

Techno stiffened. Tommy blinked in confusion.

Dream pulled his mouth back into a sneer. “I helped you out, remember? So you said I had one wish from you.” He didn’t continue. He waited for an answer, eerily patient.

In disbelief, Tommy yanked on Techno’s cloak. “You did?”

Gaze flicking back at Tommy for a second, Techno’s jaw clenched. After several chilling seconds, he affirmed slowly, “...I did.”

“ _Right_?” Dream chirped, sheathing his sword with knowing complacency. “Do you have a lamp you’d like me to rub first?”

Techno jerked a thumb backwards to the lantern on the ceiling. “Up there.”

“Ha… ha.” Dream held out his hands, opened upwards. “I wish you to let me take Tommy away, and not get in my way.”

“Rub the lamp first.”

“I’m not joking around.”

“Techno,” Tommy mumbled urgently, but didn’t know what to follow up with. Should he run? Drink the potion of invisibility? Could they win in a fight against Dream?

Techno looked back at him, lowering his pickaxe. Tommy started away, hands releasing Techno’s cloak.

Techno stepped away from in front of Dream, to the side. In a quiet voice: “Go on, Tommy.”

No. “What—” _No._ “Techno?”

“You heard him,” Dream crowed, biting back a chuckle. “Come over here, Tommy. Let’s go home.”

Tommy glared at Dream, then looked desperately back at Techno, then staring at Dream, then back up at Techno. This wasn’t happening. “Are you serious?”

“Go with him, Tommy.”

Tommy stepped backwards. “You’re abandoning me.”

Techno took in a sharp inhale. “I’m not abandoning you.”

“Then—”

“ _Tommy_ ,” Dream hissed again, this time voice dripping with warning.

In a daze, Tommy stumbled over to Dream’s side. Numb. Must’ve been the cold. He didn’t care. He was being abandoned and left for dead—again. The people who he thought he could count on as allies or even friends deserted him again. And it was all because of Dream. Again.

The air outside was freezing enough that it was piercing through his skin. Tommy rubbed at his arms robotically, goosebumps uneven under his palms. Dream simply offered—forced—a hand over one of Tommy’s shoulders and turned him down the steps of the porch. Tommy didn’t know what made him want to throw up more—the blazing heat from the burning Logstedshire or the frigid winds as he was forced away from his last refuge.

They took one step down.

“Hey,” Techno called out behind them. Placidly, Dream turned, and so did Tommy, stiffly. “Help me do one last thing before you go.”

“Which is?” Dream asked sweetly.

Techno held out a hand, a golden bell connected to chains looped around his middle finger gently swinging in the air.

Dream laughed. “Of course.” He fisted his hand and bumped into the bell.

The chime rang loud enough for anyone in the snowy fields to hear.

“Thank you,” Techno drawled, withdrawing his hand back into his cloak, “for your patronage.”

Dream paused, then his smile froze. “What?”

And then Tommy was jerked out of Dream’s grip from behind him, and his feet were in the air and the land was shrinking before him—he was in the air. It took him a second to realise it, and another to shriek. Instinctively, he tried wrenching and pulling away, feebly kicking at whatever was behind him as much as his numb legs would let him, yowling as the distance between him and the ground grew larger. Only until he knocked his captor in his face and a familiar green-and-white hat fluttered down did he falter.

“Ouch,” Philza complained.

“Phil?” Tommy asked, trying to turn. With how Philza was grabbing him from under his arms, it was difficult.

“Hang on tight.”

“Phil?” he asked again.

He didn’t receive an answer immediately; only a face-full of a flurry of snow and the cold blasting at him, and he screwed his eyes shut at the gush of winds whipping past him. It ended in seconds, his feet suddenly finding soft ground. When he reopened them, he found dirt underfoot, layered with snow.

“Where…” Tommy looked around. The peaks of mountains were at their level, but they were on a floating dirt platform. He gawked, then looked down, teeth chattering from the cold. “A-Are those _turtles_ down there?”

He looked to Phil for an answer, but all he received was a coat draped around him. Phil was looking past him with narrowed eyes, at the ground below, before glancing back at Tommy. Shivering and glassy-eyed Tommy. Gingerly, Phil reached over and patted him on the back.

“That’s Techno’s turtle farm,” he answered, then stood. “Are you ready to leave? We have a bit of a journey.”

“To where?”

Phil, like it was the most obvious thing in the world: “Safety.”

“ _Safety_? I thought…” Tommy trailed off. Phil furled and unfurled his wings. It was impossible to see the ground anymore, the torches dotting Techno’s house included. Tommy stared out into the distance, numb fists gripping the hem of the coat until his knuckles turned white. Oh.

So he wasn’t being abandoned, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I procrastinated on this for a bit. I just write something and then hate everything I've written 2 minutes after I wrote it and then publish it anyway
> 
> Some of the beginning dialogue was inspired by a comic by @/Diamondrosy_7 on twitter. I don't follow them but their art looks very cool, you should check them out


End file.
